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Art: Banksy

Picture this: a dirtied, scraped up, penniless homeless man holds up a cardboard sign pleading for pocket change. Perhaps he wrote well wishes and a message of gratitude for giving what you can. Most people who pass him don’t know where he’s from, his name, or how he came to be homeless.

As humans, we tend to fill in the blanks. Unless you’re chauffeured from a gated community to a private jet, and refuse to look out the window in daily travels, it’s nearly impossible to miss these questions of responsibility. We tend to explain the inexplicable with simplifications. People deserve what they deserve.

These mental shortcuts enable us to quickly pass through our day and “understand” the world around us. It’s complicated out there, and we have limited brain power. We can’t worry about everything, can we? Dwelling on uncertain ideas of responsibility might result in something scary: feeling lost, stupid, or flirting with pointlessness.

When we think of the causes of poverty, it can be natural to blame individuals. For instance, that the person asking for change on the street corner is too lazy to work, wants to feed their alcohol addiction, and/or doesn’t care to shape up. If only they would take responsibility for their actions, then they wouldn’t be homeless, right?

That’s the simple conclusion — and it’s possible — but today I want to encourage us to take a step back. Let’s think about some alternative conclusions. Those alternative conclusions harbor a truth that’s larger than one simplistic answer. It encapsulates the range of possibilities and diversity of lives.

Capitalism tends to encourage individual responsibility for actions. We have a penal system that punishes individuals’ actions as if they are divorced from difficult upbringings and environments — separate and isolated incidents. We have enormous financial markets, which encourage individual college students to major in business, computer science, and engineering. We congratulate and honor people for “their” work and individual contributions to science, politics, and bravery. When we seek answers for homelessness, poverty, and even wealth, the scripts have been built for us. As I’m a visual person, I’ve created a pie chart to explain responsibility in capitalism.

In this first chart, capitalist ideals suggest that individuals bear the responsibility. Pretty simple, right? When I was younger, I enjoyed the efficiency of more libertarian — individual responsibility — principles. If you work harder, you’re rewarded. The world is yours, if you earn it.

Those capitalism-infused libertarian values of responsibility eventually shifted. The best explanation was an active decision to expose myself to diverse reading material and cultures. Suddenly, the responsibility for homelessness, poverty, and wealth became complicated ideas. I needed to wrap my head around the chicken or the egg — what came first — of finance. Did the poverty cause lethargy or did laziness cause poverty?

Obviously, these pie charts aren’t scientifically exact. They’re meant to be illustrations of my thought process, as I consider where to assign blame and responsibility when I see poverty and wealth. The more I thought about what might influence and shape an individual, the more complicated it became. Certainly, it would save me time to write off the impoverished and say they are welfare grubbing lifesucks, but I choose to represent a different point of view. We are each born into this world with different characteristics — monetary, racial, SES, etc.

If we reexamine the aforementioned homeless man, responsibility becomes murkier with new variables. Suddenly, we see the man beyond the exterior and our previous assumptions. Perhaps the reality is that he was born to a single-parent household in a disenfranchised neighborhood. Perhaps he was a Vietnam War veteran who suffered from the losses of fellow soldiers and improperly/untreated posttraumatic stress disorder.

Or, perhaps we are all incredibly complex, diverse beings. We’re born with unique genes, environmental upbringings, educational opportunities, and parents. Heck, those listed here are but a small fraction of all the variables we could include.

If we quickly judge that someone bears the responsibility for being destitute, we are the lazy ones. We are the ones we often hate, despise, and discount. Carefully examining responsibility is challenging and not without errors, but we avoid incorrectly concluding that someone failed and deserves the punishment of poverty.

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The Great Recession was “solved” by a number of rapid fire actions by Congress and the Executive Branch. They came together to fund stimulus bills and negotiate with massive banks. They found a way to save most people’s retirements, despite the corruption and chicanery of companies that caused the mess.

We were in a horrible bind. Most people’s entire wealth was wrapped up in real estate and investments, which were tanking. The bubble had popped. Previously, people with little credit and, sometimes, no down payments were able to buy homes. It inflated everything, as people were buying more than they could ever afford.

After the collapse, a lengthy program called for zero-interest borrowing and quantitative easing. The Federal Reserve (U.S. central bank) doled out massive amounts of money to banks at zero and near-zero interest. Effectively, this would enable banks to give borrowers easier access to mortgages, small business loans, and more. The hope was that banks would generously loan out the money.

Then came quantitative easing. Because the interest rates were already at zero, the Federal Reserve (central bank) couldn’t prop up the banks this way any more. They made a last ditch effort and started buying bonds (or, debt) of financial institutions (i.e., Bank of America, Chase, and Wells Fargo).

Every time there was speculation that the discount window to interest-free loans or quantitative easing would come to an end, the stock market would hiccup. Investments would nose dive and a panicked market pleaded with Federal Reserve chairs to hold back – the economy was still “soft.”

Economic stimulation of this sort allowed people to spend more, too. By acquiring low-interest debt, people could buy more, bigger, and better. Everything seemed more affordable when loans were artificially depressed (heck, that’s why I bought a car I couldn’t afford).

People with money bought and bought. And they invested like mad. Those who invested post-Great Recession were rewarded handsomely. From the bottom of the crash to now, the Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJIA) has returned approximately 173%. In other words, investors who got in mid-2009 and 2010 have nearly doubled their money!

One of the saving graces of today’s economy is that inflation has held constant. Throughout 2014, the inflation rate ranged from 0.8 to 2.1% every month. And inflation is an important variable in this conversation, because it’s essentially a measure of affordability. When inflation increases, the consumer price of all goods increases. Everything from bread to cars to homes is affected by this measure.

Thus, in 2014 the average inflation rate was 1.77%. Not too shabby! When you compare that to deflationary or atmospheric inflation, we are in a pleasant sweet spot. The price of goods are increasing at a controlled, moderate rate.

For most of us, the stimulus has worked. My investments are doing better than ever and I’m seeing some sizable gains. The future of my money looks brighter.

Additionally, I have fewer “savings” than ever, and that’s a good thing because I have more invested than ever. I followed the financial advice of the world and realized that cash is a drag. I don’t mean that tongue-in-cheek. Cash suffocates returns, because checking and savings accounts pay next to nothing (even if you choose an online bank). To let cash sit in those accounts means that we accept a pittance and suffer from inflation rates.

Let me put this together. We have benefited from the Federal Reserve’s decision to provide easy capital to banks, which then presumably went to consumers. Similarly, quantitative easing has further supported banks recovery and ability to loan. Investments are spectacular right now, too. But this combination of events has wreaked havoc on the most desperate among us.

The advice for someone like me (who has some – albeit small – amounts of money) is to invest. Don’t suffer the cash drag. Unfortunately, that financial advice doesn’t apply to the poorest among us. Those with irregular and/or unknown paychecks by amount and/or interval can’t invest the money. By investing their funds, they could put themselves at risk because they don’t have enough liquidity. Additionally, they might not be able to invest because they barely have enough at the end of every month to scrape by.

That’s where the advice between wealthy and poor individuals diverges. Our financial commentators tell wealthy people to invest, and the impoverished to save. If only the poor would save more, their lives might be better. Except, if you’ve been following along, “saving money” doesn’t mean protecting money. The average interest rate of savings accounts was 0.06% in 2014. At Bank of America, Chase, PNC Bank, and Wells Fargo – all the brick and mortar banks that those in poverty are more likely to use – the interest rate is a dormant 0.01%.

Let’s say you’re Joe Poverty, trying to save. Mr. Poverty has turned on CNBC, Fox News, and CNN to listen to all the financial advice he can get his hands on. He’s motivated and leans in. He wants to live better, eat healthier, and save for the future. He wants to pay his daughter’s student loans, and he feels guilty that he couldn’t support her. His first step is to open a checking and savings account at a local, popular bank. He needs to be able to pay bills and receive paychecks, but he also wants to begin saving. The checking and savings accounts will pay him 0% and 0.01%, respectively.

Now, here’s where things get really sad. Joe Poverty is going to stay in poverty using this method. Unless he can drastically increase his income and build a huge safety net, he won’t have enough to invest each month. Because he’ll be precluded from investing, his only hope is to save. So he does. And he does. And he does. He’s motivated, remember? He cares about his daughter and wants to succeed.

He drops money here and there into the savings account. But each month that money is worth less and less. Despite his attempts to save at 0.01%, the inflation rate hovers around 1.77%. Effectively, he loses 1.76% every month in spending power. The savings are hibernating, as the world around those dollars is ablaze. The market is benefiting nearly every day from free-flowing capital, but the poorest have had to sit by and watch it happen. Every month, having less.

At some point, Joe Poverty feels like “he’s failing.” He turns on the channels, rereads books, and looks at his savings account. Despite his efforts, he can’t afford to pay off his daughter’s loans. Her loans accelerate at 6.8% interest, as his savings lingers.

This economy disincentivized savings. It trumped up how easy it is to spend and invest, while ignoring those most in need. Savings rates used to 3%, 4%, and 5% only a few years ago. They could easily beat the inflation rate, and incentivize savings. People really added to their wealth when they saved.

Even worse, by disincentivizing savings, those who might need positive reinforcement didn’t receive it. In fact, they were punished for saving. They had less and less each month. The savings were an illusion, and the purposelessness was degrading. Who wants to continue trying to save and add to their income – following the advice of wizened “gurus” – only to find out they’re failing?

The Great Recession hurt nearly everyone. The actions that the government took are debatable. The necessity of those actions are questionable. But the result is undeniable. People have been encouraged to spend free cash and invest for the long term. Neither are bad options in a low-rate environment. Sickeningly, that advice doesn’t apply to everyone.

People in poverty will continue to sit back and watch as others’ lucrative capital increase until something changes. We need the Federal Reserve and the government to incentivize savings like mad. We need an economy and country that’s prosperous for a greater whole, not a select few. The discount window for loans must raise their interest. The quantitative easing must stop. And the world must compromise investment performance for a short while – adjusting to the new rates – to encourage everyone to save.

It’s no longer enough to verbally smack and accost the most destitute without understanding the systemic factors that prevent their success. It’s time we advocate for respect and change these financial practices. Then, and only then, will the advice to “save” make cents.

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I stood there, harboring a chip on my shoulder and feeling like I was carrying a burden in my chest. School was entering the toughest part of the year, and I was still trudging along in sub-zero, arctic-like temperatures of Iowa. Stressed out and pissed off, the snow pummeled and angled for my eyes.

Over a foot of snow accumulated in two hours. I couldn’t see the concrete. Roads and pedestrian paths disintegrated. Cars revved and swerved with each degree shift of the wheel. I feared I’d be the accidental recipient of an absentminded or reckless driver.

A face mask crystallized my condensed breath. I blinked and shards seemed to puncture my eyelids. Although, without it, my nose would likely fall off. I could barely breathe – artificially choked by the restrictive layer like an asthmatic marathoner.

Snow drifts and plows lined the sidewalks. My momentum couldn’t carry me over the hills, so I looked like a football player running through tires. The tendons in my knees stretched and torqued under the trot. I could tell they weren’t happy with me — every time I stopped they screamed and ached.

What was I running to? My place of work: the homeless shelter. A beacon and bastion of hope – the warm solace where my weathered feet might warm. Even more, I was motivated by the fact that my brief discomfort was another’s quotidian life. The punishing cold and snow was an unfortunate norm to the population I came to serve. The homeless were suffering far more at the worst part of the season. I needed to get there and try to make a difference.

An academic year — summer to summer — passed since I started working at the shelter. I saw the seasons change, turnover in residents, and demographic shifts. People with pennies to their name would come in and seek shelter — some would be turned away for lack of room. Some would be paired with case managers, find work, and a fresh start in a new apartment. Sometimes the system worked, and sometimes it failed. Some homeless people were self-starters, and others needed additional help.

As a white guy from a middle-class neighborhood in the Denver area, my experience in life seemed to differ from many of the residents of the shelter. My parents worked hard, but also made time for me. They are still married after 30 years. And they consciously decided on neighborhoods with strong schools. Many residents came from broken families and piss poor educations.

I was born white, and with it, I gained an unearned privilege. Police would pay less attention to me. Teachers would pay more attention to me. Honors and advanced placement (AP) courses were always available, and I was encouraged to take them. Life was easy in these respects. I had difficulties growing up – often feeling like an outsider – but these paled in comparison to systemic racism, segregation, and lost opportunities.

In many ways, I grew to appreciate that shelters are society’s measly attempt at righting systemic wrongs. They focus on the bare necessities usually: a place to sleep and a daily meal. Occasionally, there’s a pair of shoes or gloves that will prevent frostbite.

How do we let people ever get this low? How do we fail to provide for those in need of greater assistance? Unfortunately, answers are complex. It requires changing the dialogues we have with others and in our own heads about poverty, income/wealth inequality, and homelessness.

On my last day, I hugged the staff goodbye and shook the hands of some residents I had gotten to know. My eyes welled up with sadness. A year of counseling and communication with one of the most vulnerable populations… It was overwhelming. I had continuously reached my limits as a counselor – newly defined due to this experience. Sometimes I couldn’t help as much as I wanted because basic needs were unmet. My role at that point became to assist in whatever way I could.

Today, I write about this experience in the hope that you’ll listen and advocate for those in need. The financial burdens of people without homes is great, but the systemic problems that lead to this place are even greater. Advocacy is the only option, and it goes beyond serving food at a soup kitchen or counseling. Change necessitates sociopolitical involvement, which requires us to write, vote, and get upset about it.

We live in a perplexing time of great wealth with horrific poverty. How the two exist and continue is a consequence of systemic, legal, and political action. To change it, we must use the same tools.

In Salt Lake City, there’s a movement afoot to change this paradigm. It’s called, “housing first.” Instead of judging people and calling them “lazy addicts,” Salt Lake provides housing to the homeless. Radically simple, isn’t it? They provide housing, which clears and cleans the streets, and it turns out that it’s cheaper than letting people freeze to death and/or suffering horrific injuries that need the emergency department as a primary means of care.

When you provide housing first, you stop judging someone for all their faults, and start seeing a person that is from a community – who had varying opportunities to succeed. And best of all, it’s affordable.

The sun is beaming down and a breeze passes through my hair. It’s pleasant. And then I think, what will it be like for those out there on the streets tonight? I never used to think that, but now I do almost every day.

Why Judging People for Buying Unhealthy Food Is Classist by Wiley Reading
I have done this before, and it’s a big wake up call to anyone who criticizes other people’s dietary choices. When you judge someone for “choosing” less healthy food options, this might be a classist statement. Unfortunately, with global income and wealth inequality, people aren’t taught and don’t necessarily have the resources to “choose” better options.

“How in GOD’s NAME do you spend so little on food??” by J. Money
Over the last few months, I’ve been on an epic challenge to reduce my food and drink budget down to $200 per month. It used to be hundreds of dollars more than that every month. In this article, a family man asks how so many people have reduced their budgets, and what’s a reasonable amount to expect. Great article!

Broke with Privilege by Stefanie O’Connell
Stefanie’s one of my favorite personal finance writers. In this recent article, she talks about income disparity, poverty, and even privilege. I don’t want to ruin the article by explaining it here. Go read it NOW! 🙂